Julio

By Dorila A. Marting

Julio, a ten year old bright boy, is the only survivor of his family when the flood of the century killed about fi ve thousand people on Saturday, December 7, 1941 at the northern part of Huaras, Ancash, Peru. His cousin, Esperanza, takes charge of him. Together they go to Lima, suffer hardships to earn their secondary diplomas in order to enter the United States of America as immigrants and become worthy, naturalized citizens.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514400012

Dorila A. Marting

Dorila A. Marting gives us a riveting portrait of a land and a culture very unlike our own. At the same time, her universal themes—the eternal struggle between the generations, the ties that bind—make for an astonishing debut novel filled with colorful characters and intriguing situations anyone can relate to. Coming to the United States as an immigrant, Dorila A. Marting is proud to be a naturalized American citizen. From 1959 to 1968, the author was a correspondent for the Arizona Republic in Phoenix and the Arizona Daily Sun of Flagstaff. A member of Arizona Press Women and the National Association of Press Women, she has received ten State Press awards and one national award for her journalism. Following graduate work at the University of Arizona, she became a Spanish language and ESL teacher. Now in her golden years at age eighty-seven, Marting is in perfect health and continues to write creatively from her home in Tucson.

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Copyright © 2015 by Dorila A. Marting.

Photo by Barton Robison

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Rev. date: 08/31/2015

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Epilogue

This book is

dedicated to my daughter, Mary L. Jones,

and the rest of the family.

Chapter 1

J ulio was a vivacious ten year old boy, the only son of Arturo and Sofía Vidal, future owners of the homestead in Cojup Valley, now owned by Anita, the widowed mother of Sofía. Anita inherited the homestead from her ancestors, along with ten Quechua Indian couples and their immediate families who lived there happily and cultivated the productive land.

Because the child needed an education and Arturo’s job was located in the new section of northern Huarás, the couple bought their new chalet, miles away from Cojup Valley where Sofia grew up. On most weekends, they visited Anita, endearingly called Mama Anita, and enjoyed the outdoor life. Julio loved to go fishing with his Dad in one of those formidable, beautiful lakes, Palcacocha and Jircacocha, each with abundance of fish and wild geese. The view of the famous Peruvian Andes, Huandoy, Hualcán and Huascarán filled the child’s heart with joy. When the sun kissed the heads of those peaks, Julio could observe the prisms that changed the colors in silver and gold. In the spring, the fields were covered with cereals of all types, tubers and twenty kinds of potatoes, and legumes. The fields were bordered with beautiful, colorful wild flowers pink, yellow and purple. Life was good! Their livestock sold in the markets brought good money. The aging lady now depended on Arturo’s ability to handle her business affairs executed before by her late husband.

Esperanza, an orphaned young lady, who lived in Pomabamba, was the favorite niece of Sofía, twice her age. She knew how eager Esperanza wanted to be educated because there were no high schools in the city where she was born. There were no opportunities for girls with only an elementary diploma. So, they were prepared to become devoted housewives and rear all the children God sent to them in order to follow the path of their ancestors. Esperanza was different from other girls, rebellious with higher goals.

On her 18th birthday, Esperanza received an invitation from her Aunt Sofía to live with her family in their new chalet and to register in the newly built high school for women at a walking distance from their residence. She would be a good companion to Julio, a lonely child, who always wanted to have a sister. Sofía could not have more children.

Esperanza convinced her uncles and aunts, with whom she lived, that earning degrees was her main goal and that someday they would be proud of her. The young lady was spellbound! She jumped up and down when the elders approved her request. She no longer was a minor.

Having reached her majority, Esperanza was able to make her own decisions. She thanked Sofía for the generous offer and replied to her that she would be at the entrance of Yungay on Saturday morning, December 7, 1941; she also asked her to arrange for someone to meet her. On the day of her departure, all the family gathered to bid farewell with hugs and tears at this quaint city of Pomabamba. Esperanza rode off tossing kisses from the top of her handsome horse, Caballero. She also said farewell to the famous Puma, designed by nature that sits permanently on the top of the Jancapampa Andes. Esperanza was storing in her mind the last look of this lion for whom Pumapampa (Region of Lions) now Pomabamba was named. There is also a village, at the foot of the Andes called Pumacuchu (Lions’ Corner). The Mountain Lion sits ready to sprawl, his intense gaze with his black diamond eyes, ears at attention, showing two prominent canine teeth, but no tail. The natives of this region worshipped this lion before the time of the Incas until the Incas forbade the adoration of all animals. On her way to Yungay, Esperanza passed the foaming Pomabamba River on its long journey to the Atlantic Ocean. Red tiled and yellow thatched homes bordering the streets were left behind including the main plaza with its big white church and tall towers, a double trunk cedar tree standing still in the main plaza; she passed amid fields of alfalfa, the tall eucalyptus trees waved farewell to her. Esperanza had a presentiment that she would never again see this charming place of her birth and tears flowed down her cheeks. She would not remain in Huarás or Lima; her destination would be the United States of North America, the land of her dreams since she was three years old.

Hours after traveling, the Quechua man guide stopped for a light lunch and to drink water. He chewed his coca leaves, pulled out a wad from his mouth and predicted a lot of hardship and suffering that awaited Esperanza, but at the end she would have fulfilled all of her dreams. He advised her to be strong— that where there is hope there is a way.

Esperanza replied, thanking the guide and saying: Where there is hope, there is a way. I am strong enough to overcome any difficult problem. I promise you.

On the road to Yungay, the guide asked Esperanza if she wanted to stop and visit her friends at the prosperous Tingo Hacienda.

Esperanza thought for a moment and replied, "The six young ladies about my age are my friends and they would want to keep me there for a day or two. Remember that my Aunt Sofía will be sending one of her Quechua Indians with a horse, or a chauffeur with her car to pick me up. We have to keep going."

"I heard that the rich hacienda owner wishes and hopes to have a male inheritor, but his wife gives him a girl every year."

What you say is true. The teen-aged girls are beautiful. They try to keep their father happy. He calls them: ‘My half dozen of beautiful Roses’ because each of them has a combined two names such as: Rosa María, Rosa Ana, Rosa Linda, etc.

The Portachuelo or Staircase Pass was scary. Footholds had been carved on the bare granite rocks by ancient workers. Some were slippery, zigzagging, winding irregularly. Some steps were wide and others narrow, some shallow and others deep or sloping. Caballero’s nose bled and Esperanza felt light headed at that 15,000 feet altitude.

From the summit, Esperanza looked down and saw a group of Quechua men struggling and leading two packed horses. Each animal was carrying double sacks of dried coca leaves brought from the Marañón Valley to be sold to merchants in Yungay. With the profits the men would buy rice, sugar, salt and aguardiente (like whiskey) to sip in miniature cups. There was now a manmade tunnel, carved within two walls of rocks to cross the Llanganuco Lake. This is the point that divides the Atlantic from the Pacific. But to descend from 15,000 feet down to 12,000 thousand feet was scary in order to reach the Llanganuco Lakes.

Do not look down the scary precipice, it will frighten you. Just look ahead. Your horse has common sense and will get you down safely, the guide advised her.

When they reached the narrow tunnel, Caballero traversed it very carefully, encouraged by the guide. Before this tunnel was made, travelers crossed the lakes on manmade narrow boards (called barbacoas) secured at each end on a carved edge of the granite mountain.

It is getting dark, we will spend the night in the Cave of María Josefa, the guide said.

I heard that it is scary there!

"No, María Josefa will protect us. It is safe there. The cave has a nice temperature, plenty of straw to keep you comfortable. I will rest at the entrance guarding us and Caballero from the attacks of wild animals.

It was almost dark when the Llanganuco Lake came into sight with abundance of wild fowl, cactus reeds, and green meadows. When they stopped, Esperanza washed herself admiring the lake, and hoped that María Josefa would keep her safe in the cave.

For supper, Esperanza and the guide munched on roasted yellow corn, dried meat, apples and peaches and drank plenty of water. Afterwards, the guide clipped a bit of Caballero’s tail hair and placed it on a clay pot for María Josefa to keep the animals safe. Then he dropped small change into another pot for needy passengers to borrow some money and to return it with interest or they would be punished. Then, the guide recalled the horrible death of now famous María Josefa in the hands of a mad lover, who overwhelmed with guilt, threw himself into the Llanganuco Lake and died. The shrine of María Josefa is famous worldwide. Her miracles abound. Esperanza’s fear disappeared because she was now in good hands and safe for the night in the cave.

The following morning, as they entered Yungay, strange white rocks were blocking the path for the horse. The guide assumed that Esperanza’s Aunt Sofía had sent two Quechua men to pick up Esperanza with another horse or a car. Esperanza hugged her beloved horse and cried saying farewell to the horse she loved since it was born, and thanked the guide for the safe trip warning him to go back as fast as he and the horse could because the sky was grey and threatening. Something horrible was about to happen or happened already.

The guide led the horse back to Pomabamba waving back with his hat to Esperanza.

With her belongings in her double travel bag, Esperanza walked less than a block to realize that two horrible events made by men and nature had occurred on this unforgettable Saturday, December 7, 1941: Pearl Harbor had been bombarded by the Japanese Airmen and the famous Peruvian Andes had indirectly caused the greatest flood that ever occurred killing thousands of people and destroyed most of the north section of the new Huarás. Yungay had suffered, too. There were boulders scattered all over the place, human arms and legs on view everywhere. Realizing the enormity of the catastrophe and the disappearance of her Aunt Anita, the native Indians and the land, Esperanza sat on one of those boulders and cried her heart out. Then, she remembered that her Aunt Sofía, Anita’s daughter, her husband, Arturo, and their son, Julio, and their maid lived in their beautiful chalet in northern Huarás. She hoped that they might have survived. Luckily, other grieving family offered her a ride in their pickup going to the same place by a longer route since most of the bridges had been destroyed. On the radio, they learned that tons of ice broken from one of those three Andes had dropped on the overflowing Lake Palcacocha producing the biggest flood Peruvians had ever seen. Tons of gallons of water overflowed on the second Lake Jircacocha that burst out adding and duplicating the volume of water that wiped out all of the residents and their properties in that region and then destroyed most of the new northern Huarás. There were other comments for the cause of this disaster: The upper lake had been weakened by the amount of water almost over flowing of its natural dam made of mud, rocks and ice residue that shored up the lake and that in the future it should be reinforced by manmade dike to avoid another catastrophe. They heard that the new National Hotel was torn from its foundation and was floating in the Santa River until it finally crashed, that the following important buildings were destroyed: The National Women’s School, The School for Arts and Trade, and many new chalets of the well to do people. There were about five thousand cadavers to be buried on a common grave and that some wounded survivors were taken to the Catholic churches and school auditoriums. People were distressed and in disarray.

I hope that my Aunt Sofía, her family and the maid are alive, Esperanza said as she wiped her tears. An elderly lady hugged her consoling and telling her that they would take her to the main church where they may even find their own missing or wounded families. It took Esperanza thirty minutes to find Sofía crying with pain with her ten year old son at her side holding her hands. He was holding a brown envelope under his arm containing his birth certificate and school record his mother had handed him just before their chalet was wiped out.

My dearest Esperanza, you made it when I most needed you. Do not let my son, Julio, be taken to the orphanage or by kind strangers. The two of you stick together in sickness and good health. United you will succeed and prosper. Is it true that you plan to go to live in the good USA? If so, take him with you. He would be an asset to his newly adopted country. Julio is very bright. Promise me! Let us all hold our hands together and that my wishes will come through. I am dying! The doctor said that there is no hope for me. They all held hands. Esperanza and Julio cried and promised Sofía to stick together in good times and bad times. She expected to be happy in death to join her parents, the Quechua Indians, the maid and her husband whom she loved dearly.

You are not going to die, my dearest Aunt Sofía! You will recover. We will take good care of you. I will treat Julio as my baby brother. I promise you! Esperanza kissed her aunt’s cheek.

The doctor entered and told the two of them to move aside. They did.

Within three minutes, he called them and recommended that they stay with her. I could not save her life. She is bleeding internally and will soon be gone, the doctor said and left.

Sofía died in peace within five minutes.

The room was filled with cries of pain, lament and yelling for water and help; the sobs of Sofia’s family were faint. Julio threw his arms around his dead mother begging her to wake up. He was saying loudly, Do not leave me alone, Mom! Take me with you. I love you! I love you! I love you! Tears ran down the child’s cheeks. Esperanza tried to pull him up when a group of men came to pick up the body of Sofía to be buried in the mass grave. One of them lifted the child to comfort him. He passed Esperanza the brown envelope Julio had dropped on the bed.

It was so painful and difficult for the two survivors to let Sofía go, but they had no choice. All cemeteries were destroyed by the flood of the century. They held her hands for the last time and kissed her on her cheek. Four men placed Sofía’s body in a hammock and carried her away.

We cannot stay here one minute more, Julio. Let us go out and find a taxi to take us to Lima, Esperanza held the child’s hand as they walked.

In the hall, a kind nun met them and expressed her feelings of sympathy to the two survivors. She gazed at the handsome boy saying, You would be a good helper to our priest. We are concerned with so many orphans left behind. This child lost all of his family we all knew, the nun said.

Dear Sister, I thank you for the offer, but I am in charge of Julio. He will have a bright future. Right now my concern is where to find the taxi station to make the trip to Lima.

"Go to Gamarra Avenue and wait by the rock the size of a big house that the flood brought there. It is so huge and difficult to move it away. The authorities decided that it will serve as a monument and shrine to honor the thousands of people who perished here. A huge cross will be placed on its center, visible from many directions.

"Remember that all bridges in northern Huarás have been wiped out. The Santa River is dangerously copious. The railroad has been damaged so badly that it will take time and millions and millions of soles to repair it. So, if the taxi is late or does not show up, come back to the church and ask for me. I am Sister Ana. I will provide you with food and shelter," the nun smiled and shook hands with Julio and Esperanza.

We will, Sister Ana. Thank you for the information and the offer. Until we meet again. The two orphans walked away in the direction of Gamarra Avenue.

They did not have to wait very long among the grieving people when a taxi showed already half-filled with three passengers in the back seat.

"I need two more passengers for the front seat for the trip to Lima. Those who have fifty soles for two show me the bill and pay before getting in the car," the taxi driver said emphatically.

Esperanza quickly reached for her wallet, pulled out the fifty soles bill and waved it high. For the child’s sake, please, take us, she said.

You, two, hand the money and get in! the taxi driver said in loud voice,

There were other hands from groups, cries and complaints; some, short of the amount required to be paid, and there were others with more than two in the group who could not be separated.

I will be back here tomorrow, the taxi driver said in a mild voice as he took off on the road to Lima.

Once seated, Esperanza and Julio waved farewell to Huarás and to Huandoy, Hualcán and Huascarán. The three famous Andes looked innocent now, as if nothing had happened, with prisms of multi colored lights decorating their capes of silver and gold. Esperanza had a presentiment that she probably would never again see the Callejón de Huaylas known to foreigners as "La Suiza Peruana" comparing it with the mount range of beautiful Switzerland.

It was almost dark when the taxi arrived in Lima at the Taxi Station and all the passengers had to get off. The driver gave hands to Julio and then to Esperanza and told them not to get lost in that busy city.

Esperanza asked him where they could find a safe hotel to spend the night because it was getting dark and it would be difficult to find the route to their destination.

"Over there, about a block away there is a white hotel named Hotel Santa Ana. It is safe and not too expensive. You will not miss it. It has brown, carved doors. Good luck to both of you," the driver shook hands with both of them.

Esperanza secured her carry-on double bag across her shoulder refusing the help of Julio who volunteered to carry it on his young shoulder. As they walked, they were spell bound by this romantic City of the Kings. The neon lamps were glowing in multi-colors depicting tall, colonial buildings and spectacular mansions of the aristocracy of long ago. Lima has at least 300 Catholic churches and the bells were ringing in different tunes joyful and inviting, some tolling for the dead. The streets were crowded with working classes going home avoiding cars, in contrast to elegant cars driven by uniformed chauffeurs. In Lima, there were two prominent classes: rich or